Spirit Warrior
by scr1be
Summary: Amaya is a typical teenager with typical teenage problems. Sort of. La Push is a typical reservation town with typical reservation issues with things like vampires and werewolves and imprints OH MY! What will Amaya do when she finds out about her friends turning into giant wolves? What will happen when vampires find out about her? Whose life will change forever meeting her gaze?
1. Chapter 1

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM**

* * *

Every day in this rainy little town was just the same.

School. Work. Chores.

Homework. Sleep. Repeat.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Every day just the same.

Every rainstorm like a song on a loop.

Every sunrise and sunset a fast-forward and a rewind.

I'm not sure which anymore.

Am I stuck in the same place?

Am I moving forward or going in reverse?

* * *

x

* * *

"What are you writing about?"

* * *

It wasn't the words that caught my attention but the hand flashing across the page, disrupting my view. I look up from my notebook to see Quil and Embry lumbering up to our little group.

* * *

Claire lights up every time she sees Quil. She's been like that since she was a kid. He's always been around and she's always been in love with him, even when she didn't know it. The obnoxious one who can't stand for the attention to be anywhere but on him is Collin, or is it Brady?

I can't keep them straight. They're not actually twins, just brothers but all of the boys are like that around here, especially the ones that run around together.

We call them the "Pack" as a joke. They're all super muscled and super hot. All the girls on the reservation drool all over them and fall at their feet. Except me. I have no interest in the Pack. And I can't seem to get away from them.

Oh, I'm Amaya Song. I'm originally from the Makah tribe but my mother moved here when she left my father two years ago. She says we came from here but we don't seem to have any family in the area. My only friend here is Claire. She moved here from the Makah reservation when she got to high school.

* * *

I didn't really intend to have any friends. I thought if I refused to make any friends that mom would move us back home. But Claire didn't give me a choice. She ran into me that first day at school and just wouldn't go away. The Pack came with her.

* * *

"Hello? Earth to Am?" "Go away Collin." "Ouch, she bites." "Leave her alone, man. You know she'll kick your ass before breakfast." "School's about to start, she should have already had breakfast." "Quil, make them be nice to Amaya." "Cool it boys." "We didn't do anything!" "She's the mean one."

"Shut up, the both of you. Go pant at someone else's knee." They looked like I had smacked them, then they looked like they wanted to smack me. I didn't mind. I'm not entirely sane these days and I don't care who knows sometimes. So long as they don't interrupt the day-to-day anyway. But you can always count on Quil and Embry to keep the peace.

Embry chuckled, "She's got you boys pegged. Go on to class. If you're late again Sam will have you running circles until your legs fall off." "Claire, I'll pick you up here after class and take you to the library to work on that history project. Amaya, would you like to join us? You're partners, right?" "That's right. When is that due?" "Thursday. You promised you'd actually help this time." "Fine. I'll text mom and let her know." "You should come stay with me tonight after. Aunt Emily won't mind." "I don't know Claire." "Come on, you keep putting me off but I won't have it. If you don't come over tonight I'll force you to come to the bonfire Friday and spend the whole weekend with me and my family." "I'll come over tonight." "That's what I thought."

Quil was smiling down from his lofty height of 6'3" when Claire turned and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I didn't wait to watch their mushy goodbye but picked up my notebook and headed through the drizzle to class.

* * *

I didn't sit with any of the boys or Claire in our three shared classes before lunch thanks to assigned seats. It was a nice reprieve for all of us. I was always grumpier between meals and never afraid to take it out on the nearest person stupid enough to speak.

I don't particularly like school.

It isn't that it's difficult. It's not. But I get bored.

I don't like being forced to conform to what society demands. I want to be free to sit where I choose and wear what I want and dye my hair whatever color strikes my fancy that morning.

I don't want to rebel just for the sake of rebellion. I don't think. I just want to keep my options open. I want to be able to choose.

My mother tried to tell me what time I had to go to bed once so I disappeared for a week. I didn't actually go anywhere. I was in the attic the whole time. I just don't like being told what to do. Once she gave me my freedom I made the mature decision to keep her informed of my whereabouts and what time I would be home. She doesn't have to worry about me. I know what I'm doing. I don't need a babysitter.

And I don't need some dried up educator telling me what color my hair has to be for me to learn something either. Because my hair being blue really affects how I do math. Seriously.

* * *

Either way I was exceptionally grumpy leading up to lunch.

Then I realized I forgot my lunch and lunch money. So no food for me. Great.

* * *

Groaning and cursing myself three ways to Sunday in my head I went to my corner table and sat pulling out my very abused notebook and my favorite pen and flipped to a semi-clean page and began writing furiously, letting my frustration pour forth as words onto the page.


	2. Chapter 2

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM I have simply borrowed without express permission**

* * *

Am I moving forward or going in reverse?

Does time stand still

Does the world spill

Is it pouring out

From the fount

Where does this knowledge flow

Where did my memories go

* * *

x

* * *

"What are you writing about?"

* * *

I shook out my cramping hand and looked up as Claire and her Pack cronies plopped down around me at our usual spot. I'm sure other people would have sat with us. Claire was popular because she was nice to literally _everyone_ and there wasn't a person on the planet who didn't want to cozy up to the Pack besides me.

But they took up plenty of space and I gave off a seriously icy forcefield that protects me from the general populace so our table was empty save for the four of us. Honestly, it was still a little crowded for my taste.

"Jesus did you boys get enough food?" "Probably not." Brady shook his damp hair out of his face as he looked at his humongous pile of pizza and then over at Collin's double decker sub with an entire bag of chips and a liter of soda to wash it all down. Claire had a salad. Seriously. A salad.

My stomach rumbled and growled. Luckily the storm that had been brewing all morning gave a thunderous crash and covered it up.

"Did you eat already?" "Yeah. Ya'll take forever."

* * *

Claire's eyes narrowed as she looked at me. I hate when she does that. She's always looking at me like she's trying to figure out what's wrong with me. Well, good luck to her. If she figures it out I hope she let's me know because I haven't had any luck myself.

I'm just an average teenager with average teenage problems.

I hate school and I hate that we moved away from my home and my dad and everything I knew to come to stupid little La Push. There's nothing even remotely great about La Push. Makah was so much better. My dad is still there. It's only like an hour away. Why did we have to move at all? Why couldn't they just work out their stupid little problems and let me stay in my home?

But parents don't really care what their teenage daughters want. They don't care if they're going to ruin their teenage daughter's life by uprooting them and moving to a stupid little reservation that's just like home but isn't home because it's missing something very important.

I miss my dad. He's so close. But in two years he hasn't come to see me. I asked if I could see him on weekends and he kept making excuses and mom made excuses. Eventually I stopped asking.

* * *

"Claire, stop staring at me and eat your rabbit food." "Hey, be nice to Claire-Bear." "Brady, don't be gross." "What?" "Only Quil can get away with calling her that and even then it makes me want to gag." "Why are you so grumpy?" "I'm always a bitch. You should be used to it by now." "You're usually nicer after you eat." "Deal with it." "You didn't eat, did you? Did you forget your lunch?" "So what?" "Do you want to share with me?"

The world seemed to narrow and we all went silent. Collin turned red under the russet of his native bronze as we stared at him. I had expected such an offer from Claire, she was always trying to save everybody. But Collin?

First of all, the Pack doesn't share food. Second, the younger boyd inhaled food like it was their last meal before execution. Third, we're not friends.

So where had that come from?

* * *

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion.

"What? Either you want a bite of my sandwich or you don't but don't act like I just tried to poison you." " How do I know you aren't trying to poison me?" He took a large bite of his sub as proof.

Then he showed me a big mouth full of half-chewed food.

"That's completely disgusting." "I take it back. You can't have any of my sandwich." "I sit next to you in our next three classes." "No. You're mean." "I was all prepared to go without food. Now I have to have food. It's all your fault. Feed me." "No, I don't think I will."

"Would you two stop flirting already. Here, have some pizza so I can eat in peace."

* * *

"I am _not_ flirting with _Collin_." That was _so_ disgusting. How could Brady even say that? EWWWWWwwwwwwww

"I'm not flirting with _her_." "What's that supposed to mean?"

* * *

I mean, I'm not ugly. I'm not a cheerleader, that's for dang sure. But I'm not fat and my skin is actually really pretty and clear. My figure is soft and curvy and I'm an average 5'5". My hair is long and soft and black as a raven's wing when I don't add streaks of color to it. My eyes are storm-cloud grey and turn to ice when I'm mad. The stories of my people call them "ghost eyes" and say I speak to the dead. My mother named me after the great spirits because of my eyes.

* * *

Those eyes were icy and narrowed on Collin right now. His blush returned and he started to stutter. What exactly did you say to that glare? How did you respond to a death glare aimed directly at you?

Apparently you stuck your foot further in your mouth and tried to choke yourself.

"I would never flirt with someone like you. I just couldn't. You know?" "Um, no. No I'm afraid you're gonna have to explain that one to me." My brows arch so gracefully when I'm mad and my arms were crossed over my chest, accentuating my ample curves and showing off my "I'm gonna punch you" muscles at the same time.

Brady was grinning so I thought about smacking him too. Claire was trying desperately to think of a way to diffuse the tension and coming up with a blank. Her eyes were shifting worriedly back and forth between the two of us.

"You know, someone who...Brady, man, help me out." "Oh, no you are so on your own here." "Out with it. What makes me so disgusting that you're so out of _my_ league?"

My foot was tapping now. He was sweating bullets and then he started to shake. Was he trembling in terror? That was pretty damn good. But I was getting really pissed off now. I didn't ask for this. Not for any of it. I just wanted to go back home and live my life the way I wanted to without a bunch of people trying to control me. I just wanted the freedom to be _me_.

"I'm waiting and I'm losing patience so hurry up." "Jesus Christ, I was just trying to be polite and feed your stupid ass and this is the thanks I get. Fuck you Song. Go blow a goat!" "Cool it Collin."

Suddenly Brady was holding Collin back and everyone was standing and staring. The whole cafeteria had eyes on us and Claire had her phone to her ear. Brady was trying to pull Collin out the back door. But they weren't escaping that easily. No way in hell.

I jumped up and planted myself in the way.

"Who do you think you are to talk to me like that? Apologize." "Make me little girl." "You are begging for a beating." "Collin, calm _down_. Get out of the way Amaya." "Not until he apologizes." "He's sorry. Now move, please."


	3. Chapter 3

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

Where did my memories go

I seem to be moving so slow

My past has faded

Even the holes are shaded

I can't seem to recall

I can't remember at all

Was there something I forgot?

* * *

x

* * *

 _I jumped up and planted myself in the way._

 _"Who do you think you are to talk to me like that? Apologize." "Make me little girl." "You are begging for a beating." "Collin, calm down. Get out of the way Amaya." "Not until he apologizes." "He's sorry. Now move, please."_

* * *

Collin was definitely shaking now but he didn't look afraid. He looked pissed. Really pissed.

Claire came up behind me and grabbed my arm. She had her phone in her hand but she seemed to be finished with her call.

"Quil's on his way. You need to get him out of here." "I'm trying. Come on Collin, let's go." "You're gonna run? Are you kidding me right now? Shouldn't I be the one pissed off?" "Just let it go Am, please."

Brady finally got the door open and was tugging a furious Collin out of the building. Claire was trying to lead me back to our table but I wasn't going without a fight and I was stronger than she was. Meek little Claire was the one who avoided fights. She had Quil to stand up for her. She had never needed to fight for anything. I did nothing _but_ fight. Sure, I never seemed to win, but that didn't mean I was ever going to give up.

* * *

So I followed the boys out of the school and I followed as they headed towards the trees. Collin wasn't fighting Brady anymore. Until I called out,

"Hey, don't run away, you started this fight, jackass! I still want that apology you owe me!"

Brady hadn't been expecting me to follow them. He hadn't been expecting Collin to suddenly turn out of his grasp and lunge for me. So he wasn't prepared to stop him. Wasn't prepared to catch him. Wasn't prepared to stop him.

* * *

x

* * *

I knew I had made a mistake.

In that instant I couldn't decide if the world had slowed down or if my brain had sped up. But I understood everything in that one moment.

* * *

As Brady lost control of Collin I heard Claire gasp and stumble back a step.

* * *

I saw Quil and Embry pull up in the parking lot and jump out of their still-running truck, throwing it into park with the tires still squealing and running for us.

* * *

I heard the wolf cry from the trees.

* * *

And then everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

Was there something I forgot?

Forgot

Forget

Remember

Can't remember

Try to remember

Want to remember

Can't forget

* * *

x

* * *

 _I knew I had made a mistake._

 _In that instant I couldn't decide if the world had slowed down or if my brain had sped up. But I understood everything in that one moment._

 _As Brady lost control of Collin I heard Claire gasp and stumble back a step._

 _I saw Quil and Embry pull up in the parking lot and jump out of their still-running truck, throwing it into park with the tires still squealing and running for us._

 _I heard the wolf cry from the trees._

 _And then everything went black._

* * *

When I woke up I heard the rhythmic beeping of a monitor. I smelled the antiseptic burning scent of a hospital. It is a smell I am intimately familiar with. I hate that smell.

 _Back again_.

When I open my eyes I am blinded by all the white, as I always am. Every time I wake up here in these unfamiliar, familiar surroundings I feel more blind than forgetful. But the story is always the same. But I always have to ask. I hate having to ask.

* * *

My mom isn't in the room this time. But I'm not alone. Surprisingly, it's Brady sitting next to me. He's snoring lightly, stretched out in what has to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable with his head cocked back and his arms like dead weights over the side of the plastic chair.

I consider my options.

My throat is dry. I've obviously been here a while. If it had only been a day my mother would still be in panic mode in her own uncomfortable chair. Or maybe this scene is too familiar for her now. Maybe she doesn't care any more.

* * *

No. Stop. Too morbid right now. Go back to the facts.

* * *

I could try to rouse Brady but it is unlikely that I could make enough noise to be heard.

My arms were weak and achy but I could definitely press a button if a button could be found. Or I could start ripping things off/out of me until something started screaming for me.

That works.

* * *

I pulled out an IV. That hurt. But pain was good.

Pain was a friend I was well acquainted with. It woke you up and reminded you that you were still alive.

No matter what had happened or what you couldn't remember, pain told you everything you needed to know. You had survived.

* * *

Nothing was screaming yet so I pulled out another needle. That one hurt more, burned really and I deduced it had been some sort of pain medication that I would soon miss.

Oh well.

Next came the oxygen monitor on my finger.

Then the heart monitor on my chest.

Ah. There was the code blue I had been looking for. Soon my room would be full of people.

* * *

Brady woke with a start when the first machine went haywire.

Then the nurses arrived with the crash cart and a gorgeous doctor arrived with my mother right behind him and the Pack right behind her.

Suddenly there were too many people in the room.

The nurses tried to herd them back out but, and I may have forgotten to mention this, the Pack is made up of a bunch of ginormous hotties.

Seriously.

They give off heat like open flames and they are all over six feet tall, even the babies like Collin and Brady. And there are like twenty of them. It was like trying to move mountains. Didn't work very well.

And the doctor? He was like a statue. Of a greek god.

His blonde hair was perfect even though he clearly had been working for a while. There were shadows under his dark eyes and he was pale, even in what was obviously the Forks hospital surrounded by other pale skins, he was noticeably pale. He smelled sweet, the closer he got the sweeter his scent grew until it filled the air around me and it was all I could smell. It was overwhelming and familiar. Somehow.

I wished I could remember.

* * *

"Everyone calm down please. She's fine. Cancel the code and return to your stations. Our sleeping beauty seems to have rejoined the land of the living."

His voice was like velvet. It was warm and musical and inviting.

It was like death had just invited me into my own grave.

Even though everything about him was welcoming and beautiful and lovely and perfect I knew he offered nothing but death.

I looked for my mom and found Sam.

Something told me that Sam could help. Something primal inside me told me to tell Sam I needed help.

"Sam," I could feel my eyes go cold like ice. Something was happening here. Something not entirely unfamiliar to me. Something I didn't know how to control.

"Amaya, calm down. Please honey, take a deep breath. Dr. Cullen, could you give us a moment please." It wasn't really a question. When my mother asked for something she demanded it. She pushed past the death creature and gripped my hand, her eyes on mine, capturing my gaze and calming me with her sea-blue orbs. I could feel my eyes growing icy and distant but she didn't shy away like the others in the room.

I felt more than I saw as Sam reached out and took the doctor by the shoulder and guided him out of the room. The Pack moved in closer.

* * *

"Mom?" "It's okay Amaya. I promise you, everything is going to be alright." "What's happening to me?" "Nothing." "Why is the Pack here?"

My mom flinched at my nickname for the boys around us but her gaze didn't waver. "Brady?" "She likes to joke that we're dogs. She's not very nice to us." "I'm not nice to anyone." "Amaya, they're here because they were worried about you. You hit your head." "Collin..." "He's very sorry he couldn't be here when you woke up. He feels very badly about what happened."

Sam's voice was deep and reassuring. Something about it calmed her in a way even her mother's hadn't been able to. She started to relax. Her mother took a deep breath. The men around her took a step back.

"What is going on?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

Was there something I forgot?

Forgot

Forget

Remember

Can't remember

Try to remember

Want to remember

Can't forget

* * *

x

* * *

 _"What is going on?"_

* * *

As often as I had felt that I was different from everyone around me I had never imagined it was as true as it was right now.

I could feel it in the frightened stares. I could see it in the way none of them could meet my icy gaze.

My mother looked from me to Sam. Sam cleared his throat and looked away.

Dr. Cullen came into the room.

* * *

"Sorry, but it is important that she be seen rather quickly after waking from a coma. So much could happen if we don't catch it quickly." "Of course. Amaya, this is Dr. Cullen. He's a friend of the reservation." "Hi there, Amaya. It's nice to finally meet you. Amy, if you'll trade places with me I'll examine your daughter. I'll try not to take up too much time just now but I do have her scheduled for some tests down the hall. Then we'll see how you do with some food. How does that sound?"

It sounded like I wasn't going to get any answers.

What had just happened to me? Why did Dr. Cullen feel like an enemy to me? If he was an enemy, why did a gang of tough guys seem okay with him manhandling me at my weakest?

Before I cooperated I looked at Sam to make sure. I don't know why I needed confirmation but this doctor had every instinct telling me to protect myself, that he was dangerous. So I looked to Sam.

He seemed to know what I wanted. He came to the opposite side of the bed and nodded to me. I nodded to the doctor who, very gently, began his examination.

* * *

The feeling of danger never left but I did feel better with the warmth of Sam and the Pack radiating as they closed in around us.

If he made one wrong move they would avenge my death at least. Maybe they would even manage to protect my mom. I don't know how. I still don't know why I think he's evil. But something about him definitely screams _death_. At least to me.

When I get that feeling I try to listen to it.

When I was little I saw a dog that felt like death. Everyone always said how sweet it was. It was really cute. Liked to lick and cuddle. I hated it on sight and refused to go near it. My mom thought I was being a silly little kid and seeking attention. I liked other dogs. This one was death.

That year the dog got hit by a car and they decided to bury it under its favorite tree. They found the bones of several missing small children under that tree. The owners were thoroughly investigated but all of the marks on the bones indicated they were killed by the dog and eaten.

I don't ignore Death when I see it.

* * *

"Well Miss Song, your responses are normal. We'll see what the test results show and get you through some physical therapy and see about getting you out of here. Do you have any questions for me?"

I looked around the room. My mom was determined not to look at me and Sam was looking at the doctor. Fine.

"How long have I been here? What happened to me?" "I'm told you fell and hit your head at school. It was a nasty bump. Loss of short term memory is pretty standard in such circumstances. Nothing to be worried about. You know your name and that of your friends so I don't see any lasting side-effects in that area. We'll check again for swelling or bleeding, test your motor functions and the like." "How long have I been here?" "Three weeks."

"That's longer than last time." "Last time?"

Sam looked surprised. So mom hadn't told him. The doctor was in the know, however.

"Yeah, baby. They've run all the tests every two days or so. Nothing unusual, right doc?" "That's right. We've seen nothing to worry us in the time you've spent with us. I've compared the results with your previous medical records and so far I've seen nothing to concern me. Now, I'll go order up those tests and let everyone say their goodbyes for the night. Remember, we've had to limit our overnight visitors to two." "Yes, of course. Thank you Dr. Cullen."

* * *

As the creepy Dr Death left my room and shut the door I looked around at all the people crammed in with me.

Somehow mom had gotten me a private room. I had no idea how she was paying for it. I knew by now that dad wasn't helping her.

Maybe she had some secret savings I didn't know about. Hence the secret I guess. She was keeping lots of secrets lately.

* * *

"Does someone want to explain why the Pack is here in my sick room?" My mom looked at Sam for help.

"We were worried about you. When I heard what Collin did and how you'd gotten hurt...well, I didn't like it much. We've come by every week as a Pack and individually. Some of us hang out with your mom some nights to keep her company. She doesn't like to drive home alone and the roads are getting bad, you know." "You're so full of crap. What's really going on?"

"Amaya, watch your language." "I'll speak as I like until someone tells me the truth." "Have some respect young lady. They care about us and want to make sure we're okay. There's nothing wrong with that. That's how a tribe behaves, like family." "We don't have any family. Not anymore. You made sure of that when you moved us away from our home." "La Push is our home, more than Makah ever was." "Maybe for you."

"You need to treat your mother with some respect Amaya. She's only trying to protect you." "I don't need protecting, Sam. I need the truth. I can protect myself." "Yeah, that's obvious based on how you antagonize w-people who are bigger and stronger than you."

Brady shut himself up when Sam glared at him.

"Shut up Brady. I can take Collin and any of the rest of you who cares to go at it." "From your hospital bed? Be careful to hold your gown closed or we'll all see London and France." "I said shut up, Brady."

"A hospital is no place for this. If you cannot be civil, you will leave." "Then you can all leave. Mom, I want to go home." "We will, as soon as Dr Cullen says you can go." "I want to go now." "Baby, please just this once, work with me."

I could see the fear and the pleading in her eyes. She couldn't see the fear in mine. I made sure that no one could. I dug my nails in to the skin of my palm and pushed the fear back. It wasn't enough. I bit my tongue. I bit until the blood sprang coppery to my lips and I had to swallow or choke and the pain cleared my head.

"Okay mom. But they have to go." "Sam?" Sam nodded and the Pack herded themselves grumpily out the door. Just in time because the nurse from radiology had arrived to cart me down for the head scans.


	6. Chapter 6

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

Can't forget

Forget what

Forget you

Forget who

Who me

Who you

Who am I

* * *

Tests are boring. So boring. Agonizingly boring. And they take _forever_. I'm not joking. And as soon as you think you're finished they have three more for you.

Lucky for me I woke up in the middle of the night. Unluckily the machines are all free at night so they just wheeled me from one to the other until my bones were weary and all I wanted to do was go back to sleep.

But that kind of freaked my mom out. So I remained bored until the tests were done. And then I watched my mom fidget until Dr Cullen came back to tell us that the test results wouldn't be in until the morning because they were backed up but he would be in to read them to us just as soon as he got them and for us not to worry.

Yeah right. Did he know anything about mothers?

Of course not. He's death.

* * *

"So, what's going on with Sam and the Pack?" "What?" "You're keeping something from me and I want to know what it is." "Honey, you're not ready. This is happening too fast. It wasn't supposed to be like this." "Oh yeah, what was it _supposed_ to be like? Let's jump into that story book and play it out like it was _supposed_ to be and wish and hope with all our might and maybe it will turn out all right in the end. In the meantime I'll just sit here in this hospital bed hooked up to tubes and passing out for weeks at a time and not remembering things and acting like it's normal and _hope_ that nothing bad happens."

I glared at my mother with my arms crossed over my chest. She was a mirror image in the seat next to me.

* * *

Her skin was lighter than mine. Her mother wasn't from either reservation, she'd told me once. Just someone passing through who'd caught my grandfather's eye for a night of fun. Her hair was dark brown with auburn highlights. Her eyes were blue like the sea. She was beautiful like a movie star. She could have done anything with her life. But she stuck around and had me.

I asked why once and she'd said it was important. She said I'd understand one day. That day hasn't come yet.

* * *

The first time I fell and hit my head I was three. It didn't seem like a big deal at first. I got back up and kept playing. But that night I woke up screaming, I didn't know who my dad was when he came to comfort me. I reached for my mom but I didn't know her name either.

The next time I fell I was six. I fell out of a tree and wound up in the hospital with ten stitches. I only blacked out for a couple of minutes but they ran all the tests to make sure nothing was wrong. Not even a concussion. But I couldn't remember my name. I didn't remember which house was ours.

After that it happened more frequently. It seemed like I was a clumsy child.

When I was seven I got hit with a baseball and spent the day in the hospital trying to remember who my parents were.

Six months later I tripped and fell on the playground and couldn't recognize my best friend. She and I were never close again after that.

On my eighth birthday I fell out of bed in my excitement and spent two days being examined by doctors who couldn't explain why I didn't know how old I was or whose dog was at our house.

Four months later a bicycle accident left me under hospital supervision over the weekend until I could remember my name again and how to walk on my own.

The pattern continued until I was twelve. A bump here or a bruise there, sometimes stitches. I would forget a place or a name, a face or how to do the most basic of things for a day or an hour. Then everything would seem to go back to normal.

If I forgot my keys or where I left the remote or if I had eaten no one said much about it. Mom made sure to double check my homework for me and to establish patterns over and over again so it was more muscle-memory than brain-memory.

* * *

When I turned twelve I wanted to try out for soccer and my dad wouldn't let me. Mom wanted to let me experience life. He put his foot down. It was the first time I heard them scream at each other. But it wasn't the last.

I started paying more attention. Watching what I was doing and where I was going.

I started pushing people away. If they avoided me they were far less likely to hurt me on accident.

When I stumbled, when I fell out of bed, now I _knew_ I had forgotten something. I rushed to remember what it was before anyone figured it out.

That's when I started writing.

* * *

I thought that if I could remember what I'd forgotten then it wouldn't matter that I'd forgotten it in the first place.

So I wrote everything down, no matter what I thought, I wrote it down. I started carrying pen and paper everywhere I went.

But the big falls, the big forgets I couldn't hide. Mom always seemed to know. She's always looking out for me, always protecting me.

That's what mom's do, though, right? And despite my rebellions, I love her for it. She coaches me back to being me. She even lets me remember the rebellions. Like, she _wants_ me to be me no matter how frustrating that might be for her. She never tries to hide that part of me from myself. She never tries to re-write who I am when she's explaining what's happened.

And there have been plenty of times when it's _me_ I've forgotten. Sometimes I remember her perfectly and have no idea who I am. She has to tell me who to be. And I've wondered if she tells me what she wants me to be or who I really am.

Then I'm grateful for the journals. Because she doesn't lie.

But now she's keeping things from me again.

* * *

"Mom?" "What is it Amaya?"

"How come you never tried to get me to be a better daughter?" she looked startled at the question.

"What do you mean?" "Well, sometimes I don't remember me. You could have told me I was a straight-A student who always obeyed and liked doing the dishes and rubbing your feet. Why didn't you? Why did you tell me I make my own curfew and dye my hair funny colors and stay up late and read banned books? Why did you let me start fights and mope about dad not caring enough to come see me? Why didn't you make me a Stepford daughter?"

She leaned forward and gripped my hand, kissing my knuckles and smiling at me. "Baby, _you_ are my daughter. Bad attitude, funny hair and all is the package that makes you _who you are_. If I took that away you wouldn't be my baby any more." "But wouldn't it be easier?" "Maybe. But I didn't pray for you to make life easier. I prayed for you to make life _better_. And it is. Every second with you is worth it."

I rolled that around for a minute. She seemed sincere.

"What about dad?" "Your dad is a fool." "You married him." "I was a fool in love." "What happened?" "The love moved away I guess." "Where did it move to? If you say La Push I'll have to scream, fair warning." I was smiling. "It moved to you, silly. You have all my love. You have from the moment you were born." "So what happened with you and dad. You never said." "Baby, that's not for you to worry about." "Well, you won't let me worry about what's going on with _me_. So it's your job to distract me. This is my topic of choice."

* * *

She looked at me, judging whether or not I was going to let it go, whether it would be worth the struggle.

Apparently not.

* * *

"Your dad and I didn't agree on a lot of things. Mostly about you. That doesn't make any of it your fault. Don't ever think that."

"So what happened?"

she sighed but kept talking, staring out the window and playing with my fingers as she did so

"He wanted to keep you in a bubble when we found out what was happening. He thought that was the only way to keep you safe. I tried to explain but he wouldn't listen. I wouldn't stop you from living your life, I couldn't keep you in a cage. That wasn't the way of our people. He said I didn't care about you and he couldn't watch me kill you. You ended the argument yourself when you broke every rule put to you out of sheer orneriness. You're a responsible person on your own Amaya. You don't need a dictator. That's what makes you rebel.

"You're a free spirit, you were born of the Spirits, to walk and talk with them. I knew it the moment I saw your eyes. So long as you are free to choose your own path you make the choice that is right for you. Your father never understood that. He doesn't hold with the old traditions."

"You make it sound like a bad thing that he was worried about me." "It got so that every time you went outside he was screaming. He called child protective services eventually and tried to have you taken away." "He did _what_?"

She was sad now. She wasn't looking at me.

"What did you do?" "I tried to talk to him. I still loved him. I wanted to make it work. I knew he was just trying to protect you. I knew he loved you." "But then, why doesn't he want to see me anymore?" "Amaya, sweetie,"

This was what her mother had been hiding from her. One of the things at least.

"I want to know. Whatever it is. There's so much about myself and my life that I can't remember. Please don't hide this from me."

She sighed and a tear fell from one sea-blue eye as she spoke, "Your father loves you, I want you to remember that. But he went a little crazy. He wanted to protect you and it was all he could think about. He just couldn't figure out _how_ to do it. He thought I was putting you in danger and that he needed to separate us. That last time you blacked out, before we moved,"

she paused, taking a deep breath, shoring up her strength to go on and I searched for the dim memories of that time flipping through hazy half-memories

* * *

Mom and dad were yelling a lot back then.

One day they had been yelling and mom went to the backyard with a glass of wine to cool off. Dad was sitting in the kitchen with his head in his hands.

I remember coming down the stairs and I remember waking up in the hospital.

Mom told me later that I had fallen down the stairs. I remember dad not being able to look at me.

That was one of the times mom had needed to remind me who I was. I hadn't remembered my name. I didn't know where I lived or who my friends were. I knew my mother. That I knew without fail. And my dad. He had been there every day of my rehab. And I had needed a lot of it.

They had never left my side.

So when mom had announced the divorce and our moving to La Push I had been angry and scared and I didn't understand any of it. My memories of the fights were short bursts of it through a fog of emptiness. Like most of my memories.

I didn't understand why he didn't fight for custody.

I hadn't understood why he wouldn't drive down to see me or let me come see him. I would be sixteen in a few months after all. I could make that drive with no trouble.

* * *

"Your father and I had just had a fight. You were interested in a boy on the reservation and wanted to go out on your first date. Your father thought it was too dangerous and I disagreed. I said he was being overprotective. The argument got heated and I went outside to cool off. You came downstairs and he said he wanted to teach you to defend yourself if a boy was too aggressive with you.

"You just wanted us to stop fighting. You thought if you placated him, did as he asked, everything would be alright. He was horrified by what he'd done when it was over. He didn't mean to do it." "Mom, what did he do?"

she couldn't look at me as she explained but this time, she didn't hold anything back.

"He had only intended to scare you, to show you the dangers of your condition and the threats of the world around you. He wanted to show you that you weren't like normal girls. He wanted to protect you. But he was also mad at me. And some part of him was crazy in that moment and he lost it. You came to him willingly enough, wanting to learn to protect yourself. He grabbed you and he held you down. Instead of showing you how to get away from him he hit you and he hurt you. He beat your head against the floor and you screamed."

Amy Song was crying, the tears running down her face in a way that her daughter had never witnessed before in her life as she remembered seeing her daughter, so brave and strong no matter how scared she was, so helpless.

"I came running back into the house and saw him on top of you and all I could think about was you. I hit him with a frying pan and called 911. When the ambulance got there they took you both to the hospital. When he woke up he couldn't remember what had happened. When he was released he came to your room. I was so confused and beside myself with rage and a fierce desire to protect you. He didn't understand."

* * *

She was still playing with my fingers but she couldn't look at me. I tried to imagine the dad I knew, who had nursed me back to health and encouraged me to keep going when all I wanted to do was give up and tie him to this monster she had found beating me to death. I couldn't quite make the images merge.

* * *

"When he finally remembered what had happened he wanted to run away. I wouldn't let him. You had woken up by then. You were asking for him. I had already told the police and the doctors that you had fallen down the stairs and your father had fallen trying to catch you. If we changed our stories now, if he disappeared now, it would look bad. They would investigate and they would take you away from us. They would take you away from _me_. After what he'd done he owed us at least enough loyalty to see it through and to let me keep you. So he stayed until we could take you home and you were better. And then we went our separate ways. He couldn't trust himself with you. I couldn't trust him with you. And you didn't even know to be careful. So we couldn't stay there. He couldn't have any access. I know it hurt you to move away and we knew it would hurt you to be separated from him, but it was for the best."

"Did he want to see me?"

She finally looked at me with that.

"When we'd been here a couple of months, after you'd finally stopped asking to go and visit, he called me one night. When we left I had agreed to let him know how you were doing and if you went back to the hospital, the big things, you know? That night he told me that was a mistake. He couldn't live with the guilt. It was better if we pretended he wasn't your father because that night he had ceased to be. Every time he heard your voice it drove the knife a little deeper. The love he had for you was driving him crazier and he didn't know himself anymore. He was afraid of himself. He wasn't strong enough to be a father. Baby, I'm so sorry."


	7. Chapter 7

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

If it mattered to me

Would you change everything

If it mattered to you

Would you change everything

If it mattered to me

Would you stop everything

If it mattered to you

I would change the whole world

* * *

Our conversation ended when Dr. Death came into the room with my test results. Everything was fine but mom and I had a hard time showing our relief after our earlier conversation. How could my dad have been such a crazy person? How could I not have known?

I tried to shake it off. I put it in the back of my mind and tried to focus on what was going on right now in front of me.

"What's the next step?" I asked, knowing it was physical therapy and hating the thought. But I could feel the weakness in my limbs. I couldn't even sit up straight or grip my mom's hand tight to try and stop her worrying.

"Physical therapy will start first thing in the morning. We want you up and out of this bed as soon as possible. You have a life to live, after all. I believe the tribal council has arranged for a part-time tutor to meet with you here until you can be moved back home where Emily Uley will continue your physical education once you've been released." "Emily?" "She's very talented and close at hand. Do you have any questions for me right now?"

"Why does my brain go on the fritz when I bump my head?"

* * *

It was a question no doctor had ever been able to answer adequately but one I had posed to every doctor who had treated me since I could figure out that's what the problem was.

Dr Death didn't seem any less puzzled than the rest of them had been.

* * *

"I don't know for certain. The human body does amazing things to protect itself, the brain does the most extraordinary things of all. The average brain, on impact, protects itself by telling you that it hurts and to seek medical attention. Even a below average brain manages this signal. Now, assume an above average brain with extraordinary abilities for a moment, with abilities that far exceed expectation or understanding. Can you even begin to imagine what it might do under duress? It might turn itself off completely, like a computer shutting down to avoid downloading a virus. It _might_ reboot to it's last saved memory like a video game after it deletes a virus. Imagine a brain that knows something is interfering with its ability to function as it should so it creates circumstances that forces a shutdown to try again for optimal running capacity."

"So my brain is a supercomputer trying to take over the world but there is a virus it can't get rid of so it just keeps banging my head against brick walls until it gets the right code to fall into place?"

The good doctor smiled before he answered,

"It was just a suggestion of a theory. Every brain is unique. Every problem solving technique is different. You might just be the clumsiest girl on the planet who is also prone to amnesia because your skull isn't thick enough to protect the part of your brain devoted to memory." "I think I like supercomputer better." "So do I but that doesn't make either story more likely than the other. Preference doesn't override fact when it comes down to it."

He moved to pat my knee and I jerked back with what little strength I had. He pulled his hand back slowly and Mom lifted her shoulder in an apologetic, "what can you do" motion and a small grin. Dr Death didn't seem too put out by it but he did seem to frown as he left the room.

* * *

"Well, that was fun." "Baby, how are you feeling? The doc said you could have something for the pain if you wanted it." "No. I'm fine mom. Could you ask the nurse if I could have a coke though? I'm so tired of water." "Sure baby. I'll be right back."

As my mom left the room I grabbed her phone off the charger and pulled up Sam Uley's number and hit dial.


	8. Chapter 8

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

If it mattered to me

Would you change everything

If it mattered to you

Would you change everything

If it mattered to me

Would you stop everything

If it mattered to you

I would change the whole world

* * *

 _"Well, that was fun." "Baby, how are you feeling? The doc said you could have something for the pain if you wanted it." "No. I'm fine mom. Could you ask the nurse if I could have a coke though? I'm so tired of water." "Sure baby. I'll be right back."_

 _As my mom left the room I grabbed her phone off the charger and pulled up Sam Uley's number and hit dial._

* * *

"Sam, it's Amaya and I have a few questions for you." "Well?" Sam didn't beat around the bush. I liked that about him. "Please tell me you guys know what's up with Dr. Cullen." "What do you mean?" "He gives me the creeps. But you guys have an understanding, don't you?" "We do." "Care to explain that?" "No." "That's annoying." "Sorry."

I sighed and played with the fringe on my hospital blanket as I thought about how best to go about explaining my forebodings to this near-stranger.

"I think he knows something's off with me. I can't hide how on-edge he makes me. Even mom is bound to notice sooner or later." "What would you have me do?" "Can you do anything?" "Yes." "What?" "You'll be safe with us there."

I sighed but I knew he was right. Somehow I knew that the Pack was somehow the only thing that could stand between me and Dr Death.

"Will you be in any danger?" "No." "Who will you send?" "I'll come and Brady and probably Jacob Black. If you're there for much longer we'll all be in and out like we were before." "Okay. Is my mom going to be safe?" "Of course." "When can you be here?" "Soon."

The call ended and I put the phone down just as my mom entered the room with a cold can of coke.

"Just what the patient ordered." "Thanks mom, you're a life saver." "Who was on the phone?" "Oh, that was Sam Uley. He said some of the boys wanted to come and check up on me again and asked if it would be alright." "I thought you didn't want them up here anymore." "I was just being cranky. I'm not actually mad at them or anything. You're right after all, they're our family now."

* * *

x

* * *

When Sam and Brady arrived Mom had stepped out to confer with one of the nurses about my upcoming physical therapy sessions. I wanted to ask some more questions but his features were guarded and he wouldn't look at me. I knew before he opened his mouth that I was getting nothing out of him. Not today.

Dr Death came in right behind them with my mother trailing him.

"I see we have visitors again today. Hello Sam, Brady. I'm about to discuss some confidential medical records if you wouldn't mind stepping out of the room?" "Sam can stay."

The Dr and Brady and my mom all looked at me like I had grown a third eye. I couldn't help the blush that colored my cheeks but I didn't back down. I didn't want to be alone with the evil doctor if I could help it.

"Mrs. Song?" "It's her decision." "Very well. Brady?" "Really?" He looked at me imploringly. "Fine, you can stay too." He grinned at me and got comfortable while I rolled my eyes. Dr Cullen shrugged and opened my very thick medical chart.

"You've been through some of this type of therapy before so you already have some idea of what to expect. We're going to start you out slow but we want you to get back to your life as quickly as possible so you do as much as you feel you're able without stressing your limits. I see that you've refused all of your pain medications." "Yes."

He narrowed golden eyes at me. "It's okay to be strong but you need to understand that overtaxing yourself is just as detrimental as overmedicating. If you need something to take the edge off we can give you a low dose pain killer to help you relax as needed. You don't need to strain anything. That would be hurtful to your recovery process."

"I'm fine." "She's always refused pain killers. She says they make her mind even fuzzier than it already is." "That's understandable. Do your memories become harder to retrieve when you're medicated?" "Sometimes. They don't stay in place as well when I'm taking medicine." "I see. Well, be that as it may, your body still needs to heal as well as your mind for you to get back to your life. So take it easy." "I will." "Your first therapy session is after lunch."

I nodded and watched out of the corner of my eye as he left the room. My mom trailed after him and I shifted nervously. Sam nudged Brady's foot and nodded in their direction. Brady followed them. I sighed in relief.

* * *

As soon as we were alone Sam sat forward and leveled his dark stare on me.

* * *

"How long has this been going on, Amaya?" I didn't look at him as I answered. "My whole life. You saw how thick my chart was." "Were you in an accident?" "No. I was in a lot of them. I hit my head a lot, like most kids. But for me, I didn't always jump back up and get back to playing. It got worse and worse every time. Last time I was out for a week. I didn't know who I was when I came around."

He looked shocked and pitying. I hate that look.

"It's no big deal." "You're a tough kid. I don't know that I'd be that brave under the circumstances." "You play the hand you're dealt. Some of them are crappy. You keep playing or you fold. I'm not ready to fold just yet. I'm not broke yet."

* * *

That pitying look turned to something else. Something I had trouble identifying at first. Then he hid it behind his tough-guy mask as my mom walked back in.

She was why I wasn't broken yet. She reminded me there was still something to play for. I couldn't leave her here all alone. She had given so much to be my mom. She had done so much for me, I couldn't throw all of that away.

No matter how hard life was.


	9. Chapter 9

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

I would change the whole world

If I could stop the pain

I would if I could

I would change the whole wide world

I would stop the rain where I stood

If I could you know I that I would

* * *

 _That pitying look turned to something else. Something I had trouble identifying at first. Then he hid it behind his tough-guy mask as my mom walked in._

 _She was why I wasn't broken yet. She reminded me there was still something to play for. I couldn't leave her here all alone. She had given so much to be my mom. She had done so much for me, I couldn't throw all of that away._

 _No matter how hard life was._

* * *

I spent an agonizing weekend in the hospital going through physical therapy, pushing myself beyond my limits. Every time I wanted to give up and thought I couldn't go on any more Dr Death walked in and gave me another reason to get my butt up and keep going. I _could not_ stay here with him wandering the halls.

I don't care if Sam and the Pack trust him. They can't be here babysitting all the time. And I don't want them to. Not really.

Physical therapy is not fun. Whether you're the therapist or the victim or just a bystander, _no one_ is having fun at that party. Trust me.

So having a super hot guy standing against a wall and seeing how weak and feeble I am doesn't really inspire me to want to get gross and sweaty and fall on my face again and again while some chick in a running suit encourages me to give it another shot and cheerleads me on. It really doesn't.

But Dr Death is a good reason to want to leave this place. So I keep going and keep pushing until my discharge papers are finally signed and Sam is driving my mom and me back to our place on the reservation.

* * *

What I once swore would never be home I am now so thankful to be coming back to.

Sadly my room is an unattainable fantasy. I can't make it up the stairs just yet and mom has to go back to work on Monday so I have to be able to fend for myself. So I will be camping out on the living room couch. But I am finally safe and home.

And it is home.

* * *

I leaned on mom as Sam unloaded our stuff from the car and carried it inside for us. Claire and Emily were waiting on the front porch and from the wonderful smells I guessed they had been cooking. I couldn't complain, hospital food just wasn't all that good and I couldn't cook for crap.

My mom was happy to be home and smiling even as she was careful with me, too careful. She was going as slow as a grandmother and trying to support all of my weight and she overcompensated and lost her balance. I grabbed the porch rail before we fell but my grip wasn't much to crow about yet.

I got a splinter for my trouble and a sore butt where I landed. Mom was freaked and everyone was rushing at us all at once.

* * *

Suddenly I remembered the fight I'd been having with Collin right before he'd lashed out and I'd fallen. I remembered the moments before I blacked out.

I recalled the boys running towards us and the angry boy coming at me. I remembered, with perfect clarity, the clear ringing tones of the wolf's cry in the woods surrounding the school.

* * *

Before anyone could reach us, before I could reach that last step in my backwards tumble, my memories of that fight came rushing back to me in the same instant that a very large creature erupted out of the brush by the house.

Suddenly my fall was cushioned by a very soft, very huge something that breathed and was covered by the silkiest of silver fur.

Everything slowed down and came to a screeching halt. My mind raced.

The people on the porch were frozen. My mother backed up with a look of shock and fear on her face.

I turned to look at my savior.


	10. Chapter 10

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

If I could you know I that I would

But since I can't

You should

* * *

 _Everything slowed down and came to a screeching halt. My mind raced._

 _The people on the porch were frozen. My mother backed up with a look of shock and fear on her face._

 _I turned to look at my savior._

* * *

The wolf was the largest creature I had ever seen. It was bigger than any bear. It was bigger than a horse.

It's silky fur was silver like moonlight on a lake and soft as fallen snow.

When I didn't scream it let out it's breath and the warmth caressed my face and smelled of warm waters and musk and wildness.

It's eyes were deep chocolate with a perfect ring of amber. I had seen those eyes before. I knew these eyes. When I had first come to La Push Claire had forced me to go to a social gathering with the Pack, made me listen to the elders tell stories of the tribe's history. They told of cold ones and men who turned into wolves and spirit warriors. These eyes had stared angrily across the fire at her all night long. By the end of the night she had wanted nothing more than to drown the owner of those perfect eyes.

Paul Lahote had eyes like that.

* * *

"Paul."

* * *

It had been two years since that night at the bonfire. Claire had only made her go because Quil and Embry and Jared and Paul had picked Claire up from school and Paul had made googoo eyes at her in the parking lot. The boys had razzed him about it before he took off in a rage. Somehow Quil and Claire had conned her into going to that stupid bonfire afterwards. She'd listened to the stories, which had been interesting, and tried to ignore Paul, which had been frustratingly impossible.

He was gorgeous and his attention was on her the entire night. He was entirely focused on her. One second he looked like he was trying to memorize every curve of her face, every shadow her lashes threw in the dancing fire's light. The next second he seemed pissed off and like he hated her just for existing. It was entirely maddening. He didn't speak to her even once. When it was over he left without saying a word.

Afterwards she had left and told Claire not to do anything like that to her ever again.

* * *

She didn't see Paul again for a couple of weeks but she asked Claire about him. She couldn't stop raving about how awesome he was. He was cute and strong and such a good friend to the rest of the Pack and always dependable. She wouldn't say anything about his dating habits of course.

Other girls told a different story. Paul was sexy as hell and not afraid to show a girl a good time. Or several girls a good time. But he didn't do serious relationships so she shouldn't bother trying. Don't get her hopes up. He went for blondes and bimbos and she didn't fit the bill.

Boys laughed and gave high-fives and looked her up and down and said they'd give her a shot but she was out of Paul Lahote's league.

She gave up on that train of thought and wrote it off as a trick of the light. Clearly she had been mistaken.

And when she didn't see him again she wrote it off as a silly crush she didn't need and thought nothing more of it.

* * *

Then he showed up with Quil at school one day and tried to walk her home. She'd laughed and said thanks but she could find her own way home. He said he just wanted to be friends. She said she had too many friends and didn't he have a date to get to. He had looked confused and then frustrated but he didn't give up. He showed up every day for a week until she'd finally had enough.

* * *

"I don't know what you're playing at, Paul. I've heard the rumors. I've talked to the girls you've gone out with. I'm not like them. You're not getting anything out of me so you may as well seek entertainment elsewhere." "Have I given you any indication that I want to sleep with you?" she was embarrassed as she had to admit that he hadn't. "I'm sorry, I assumed because I was told you don't have anything to do with relationships. What do you want then?" "I just want to get to know you." "Why?" "I like you." "You don't know me." "But I'd like to."

Amaya had thought about it. Paul was the sexiest man she'd ever encountered. He was also several years older than her. Her mother would freak out. This was the last thing her mom and dad had fought about before their divorce. Was it really fair to get involved with a guy she might not remember the next time she hit her head?

She shook her head, "Sorry, I don't think that's a good idea." "Why not." "I don't want to get to know you. Please leave me alone. I don't want to see you again."

* * *

She had thought then that it couldn't hurt as much if she lost someone if they'd never really known each other. Looking into those eyes again now, seeing that fear of being rejected again in them, she knew it wasn't true. Because, somehow, she and Paul had always known each other, were always meant to know each other.

* * *

"Paul."

"Amaya, don't be afraid. He won't hurt you. Emily, get Amy inside. Just stay calm, I'm coming down to you."

I didn't want to look away from those eyes that I knew so well but from the way Sam was talking I knew that the others needed to be reassured.

"Don't worry Sam, I understand. Get mom inside. I need a minute with Paul." "You know?" "I do now. I'm his imprint, right? Like the third wife?" "Yes, that's right. How did you-?" "I understand. Paul, are you okay with this?"

The wolf bent his huge head and touched his nose to her forehead before licking her face gently with the tip of his tongue.

"I'm going to take that as a reluctant yes. Do you have clothes nearby?" The wolf looked at Sam and whuffed low in his throat. "Do you understand him?" "We speak mind-to-mind in wolf form. But we've been together long enough to get the idea. I have a pair of shorts in the car. I'll go get them and then we'll get you situated if you're okay for a minute?" "I'm okay if he is."

The wolf underneath me sighed in contentment. We continued to stare at each other. I had both fists wrapped tightly in his fur.


	11. Chapter 11

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

You should

Experience the world

Through the pain of another

Another life

Another world

Another soul

experience the world

Through the eyes

of another's pain

* * *

" _Paul."_

 _"Amaya, don't be afraid. He won't hurt you. Emily, get Amy inside. Just stay calm, I'm coming down to you."_

 _I didn't want to look away from those eyes that I knew so well but from the way Sam was talking I knew that the others needed to be reassured._

 _"Don't worry Sam, I understand. Get mom inside. I need a minute with Paul." "You know?" "I do now. I'm his imprint, right? Like the third wife?" "Yes, that's right. How did you-?" "I understand. Paul, are you okay with this?"_

 _The wolf bent his huge head and touched his nose to her forehead before licking her face gently with the tip of his tongue._

 _"I'm going to take that as a reluctant yes. Do you have clothes nearby?" The wolf looked at Sam and whuffed low in his throat. "Do you understand him?" "We speak mind-to-mind in wolf form. But we've been together long enough to get the idea. I have a pair of shorts in the car. I'll go get them and then we'll get you situated if you're okay for a minute?" "I'm okay if he is."_

 _The wolf underneath me sighed in contentment. We continued to stare at each other. I had both fists wrapped tightly in his fur._

* * *

Sam came back with shorts and picked me up from the ground. I winced as he found my bruises and the wolf whined before trotting off. Sam settled me in the porch swing surrounded by cushions and a blanket.

"I'm gonna go inside bu I have really good hearing so holler if you need something. We're going to try to keep your mom calm and explain a few things to her. We'll give you as much time as we can but come in when you can. She'll want to make sure you're okay." "Thanks Sam." "And I have a few questions for you myself. I've never known anyone to take things so well. Ever." "I'll answer as well as I can when i get my own answers. I promise."

The Pack alpha left me to ponder a few things as I waited for my wolf to return. I chuckled quietly to myself. No wonder he had been scared when I called them that. Talk about a dead give-away. I'd had it right all along. They were all a part of it.

I shook my head and sighed, rubbing my hands together I winced as I remembered my splinters.

"Are you alright?"

* * *

A shirtless Paul stood in front of me. I was speechless for a moment as I drank in the sight of him. I had been so proud of myself for being the one person on the reservation who didn't drool over the Pack boys. That was down the drain. Paul had always been my weakness. Was always _meant_ to be my weakness. I was foolish to think I could avoid something like this.

I cleared my throat and held up my hand, "Splinters."

He took my dainty hand in his large and callused hand, the fingers long and tapered, perfect for a piano and full of heat like the rest of the pack. He began picking out splinters with the care of a someone who doesn't want to cause more pain.

"You should be more careful." "I'm slightly accident prone."

He was still holding my hand but he couldn't seem to look at me. I was blushing. Everything had seemed so easy when he was a wolf. Where had this awkwardness come from?

"So...you know I'm a wolf. That's usually the hardest part about this whole imprinting thing." "Yeah I bet. How does that usually go exactly?" "Oh, you know, they see each other, the wolf falls madly in love, they date for a while. The imprint falls madly in love. Imprint figures out he's hiding something and shit falls apart. Wolf kinds bursts out of nowhere and the imprint faints or starts screaming or both. Sometimes they're afraid for a while and have to be convinced we're still human. Sometimes we get to save them from some big bad so they're grateful and it all works out. Sometimes they're open minded. Just depends on the girl." "Has it ever _not_ worked out?"

Paul thought about it for a second, "Not yet but we all get nightmares about it sometimes." "Really? You did?" "Yeah, even me. I was afraid you would find out what I was and think I was trying to kill you before I could tell you what was going on. There was the whole stalker thing going on." "You were stalking me." "Yeah...I-uh...yeah."

He was bright red under the russet. Now I know why I felt like I was being watched.

"As a wolf or a man?" "Wolf mostly. The man in me didn't like being told who to love. I didn't want to settle down, I didn't want to be forced to love someone I didn't know. The solution to that was to get to know you but you shut that down. You had no interest in getting to know a man-whore like me." he said it with disgust plain in his voice. Amaya felt ashamed of herself.

"I just didn't want to be a play-thing to you. The stories were pretty graphic. They made it clear that I wasn't your type." He didn't look at her as he spoke and his voice was low enough that she had to lean in to hear him, "My mom and dad split when I was six or so. She was cheating on him with his best friend. They ran off when dad found out. He was so heartbroken over it all that he turned to drinking. When he was drunk he was violent. The only thing he ever taught me was not to trust a woman. When Sam first phased he was with Leah, they'd been together for years and were talking about getting married. He couldn't tell her what had happened. One weekend her cousin Emily came to town. They were best friends. When Sam set eyes on Emily it was all over. He imprinted and everything changed. Everything he fet for Leah ceased to matter because everything that tied him to this world was now Emily. He tried to stay with Leah but it didn't work. Emily refused him but that didn't work. Leah was torn up and Sam and Emily, were heartbroken for her. It destroyed everything they had but it couldn't be denied."

He sighed before he squeezed her hand, turned to her and continued.

"When I phased and could hear the Pack's thoughts I was alone with Sam. Jared followed soon after but for the first few months it was just me and Sam. I could feel how he felt about Emily and how she was everything to him. But I also knew how he still loved Leah. That love hadn't left, it had changed and pity was there with it, tainting it. He wasn't in love with her anymore and everything they had dreamed of together was gone. I might be a heartless jackass sometimes, but I couldn't do that to some innocent girl. I couldn't build a life with her, knowing she wasn't my one, knowing some day, someone was going to come along and rip that dream to shreds.

"At first I was too volatile and couldn't control myself enough to be around anyone. Then I was too short tempered to _want_ to be around anyone. Eventually the Pack grew and I matured. Everyone around me started to find their imprints. They started settling down and raising families. I became a chaperone for the cubs who wanted to party. I let off steam with the ones I knew wouldn't mind the exercise but wouldn't be attached. That's what I stuck with."

* * *

I didn't like the sound of his exercise regimen but I knew I couldn't judge. It had been before he met me. And I hadn't given him any reason to change after we'd met.

"When I found you, I was in a rut. I've been so long in this rhythm stuck on repeat. I didn't even realize how unhappy I've been, Amaya. I got mad that I didn't get to choose. Then I got mad that you were young. I got mad at the timing. I got mad that you were so moody. I got mad at the world. What I was mad at was myself. I owe you an apology for that and I have a good one planned for another time." he cocked a half grin that had me melting.

"When I finally got over myself and tried to make peace and get to know you, you had already made up your mind. I tried to honor your wishes. That was hard. It is physically painful for a wolf to be away from his imprint for too long. Not seeing you was excruciating." "So you followed me?" "Collin and Brady told me stories about you. I got to know you through them a bit. You're funny, I love your sense of humor. You're creative and smart and I'm so curious about what you're always writing in those notebooks of yours. Collin offered to steal it once but I told him not to. That was hard." "I appreciate it."

I smiled at him and he swayed where he sat before he continued.

"You like to walk on the beach and along the cliff. I follow you in wolf shape to make sure you're safe and to be close to you. I watch you read at night sometimes. I try not to be too creepy, but that's hard because I know you don't want me around and I don't want to bother you. but it's such a relief to hold your hand finally. I didn't mean to scare your mom, or you. I just couldn't let you hit your head again. If I had known what would happen that day at school..."

His head bowed and his muscles tensed, his shoulders shook slightly as he took a deep breath, trying to get himself under control.

"Hey, it's okay. Calm down." I put a hand on his shoulder and he relaxed instantly under my touch. The breath eased out of him.

"I almost killed Collin. It took three of the pack to get me off of him. If you hadn't woken up I would have killed him. It's a crime punishable by death to hurt an imprint." "You won't do that because of me. Paul, look at me." he did "I won't have that. He didn't meant it and none of you could have known what would happen. No wolf will be punished if I get hurt. Do you understand me? I'll make Sam give you an order if I have to." "How do you know about that?" "I don't know. I don't know how I know anything. But I'm right so don't make me do it. Please?" he shook his head but conceded.

"So you were the wolf in the woods that day. And you were here to welcome me home." "Yes, of course." "Where were you while I was in the hospital with the vampire?"

He looked startled at my miffed tone.

"You know Dr Cullen is a vampire?" "I was at the bonfire and I pay attention to the elders when they speak. Where were you?" "Respecting your wishes and _not_ being anywhere near you?" "Inexcusable. I was in the same room being _treated_ by a _vampire_! Are you kidding me? Could I have been in any more danger? Aren't you supposed to protect me?" "He's harmless as vampires go." "He screams _death_." "All vampires do. How do you know that?" "I have no idea. I just do. I always know when death is around."


	12. Chapter 12

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

Through the eyes of another's pain

* * *

 _"You know Dr Cullen is a vampire?" "I was at the bonfire and I pay attention to the elders when they speak. Where were you?" "Respecting your wishes and not being anywhere near you?" "Inexcusable. I was in the same room being treated by a vampire! Are you kidding me? Could I have been in any more danger? Aren't you supposed to protect me?" "He's harmless as vampires go." "He screams death." "All vampires do. How do you know that?" "I have no idea. I just do. I always know when death is around."_

* * *

"I'm sorry you had to go through that without me. If I had known that you were aware of them I would never have left your side." "I'll forgive you for it this time. You were trying to do what I wanted. What else have you been doing besides watching me hike up and down cliffs and run on the beach?" "Working and running patrols. I run a garage with Jake and Embry and Quil."

I thought about him covered in grease underneath a car. I shivered involuntarily.

"Are you cold? Do you want to go inside?"

* * *

I had never dated before. The man beside me was a _man_ in every sense of the word. I thought about the stories I'd heard when we'd first met. They had shocked me then. My dreams had been...most interesting ever since. But I was untried and untested and blushed at the very idea of even kissing a man.

I dyed my hair funny colors and stayed out past curfew because a curfew was set. I did not play with fire. Paul Lahote was fire. And he was stoking a fire inside of me.

* * *

"No. We have some catching up to do. It's been almost two years since you imprinted on me. We hardly know anything about each other." "I know that I would have chosen you with or without the imprint." "How could you possibly know that?"

He blushed. "I watch Collin and Embry and Quil's memories of you. I like the way you handle them. You're not afraid of anything. They think you would be if you knew the truth of what we are. But today you proved them wrong. You didn't even flinch when you saw me. You clung to me." "You're really soft."

I blushed, "Sorry, that's not really a manly compliment, but you _are_ soft. And you saved me from another trip to Dr Death so..." "Dr Death?" "The vampire." "Nice nickname. Nobody else has come up with that one." "They aren't a very creative bunch are they?" "Apparently not. That's something else. You always make me laugh." "You said earlier that I was too young." "Yeah but I'll be young forever if I don't stop phasing. This just means I get more time with you. Quil's been with Claire since she was two. He's gotten to see her grow up, be there for all the big events. He's been her first for everything. I'm so jealous of that bastard."

"Isn't that kind of weird? To imprint on a baby?" "Not really. We're whatever our imprint needs us to be. If they need a father or a brother or a friend or a lover. It's always the imprint's choice. Whatever she needs is what we are. Quil's just been happy to see her happy. Now she's growing up and she's starting to feel differently about him. She's moving away from that big brother stage and the best friend stage into boyfriend territory. He's being cautious and giving her the space and time that she needs. He won't push her into anything and he'll make sure she's really ready before they take the next step. She'll never be more protected or loved."

I thought about it for a minute.

"I guess it's okay then...so long as he didn't want to...when she was little..." "That would be disgusting and we would have killed him. That's Emily's cousin we're talking about. Sam wouldn't have let him live." "That's right. Okay then. So...what are we?" "Whatever you want us to be." "Can't you tell?" "I'm as confused as you are, as decided as you are. My wolf knows its way around a little better, that's why the awkwardness isn't there when I'm in that form. The human me is as dimwitted as ever." "That's not very kind." "I'm not always a kind person. You won't have to worry about that. You're pretty much perfect as far as I can tell."

* * *

 _But you don't know what's wrong with me_ _. You don't know that I forget who I am and the people that love me. You don't know that I might go blind or slip into a coma and never wake up._

That was a story for another day. Her mother walked onto the porch with Emily trailing her.

"Amaya, dear, please come inside now. Dinner is ready and I don't want you to catch a cold." "I'm fine mom, sitting next to Paul is like sitting by a fire." "Now please."

Instead of going back in and letting her come in at her own pace, her panicked mother held out a hand impatiently and waited for her daughter to shakily get to her feet and take the proffered limb. She did _not_ move any closer to Paul than necessary.

"Paul, would you like to come inside and get something to eat?"

Paul glanced at her mom and then at Emily and back to his imprint.

"I don't think that would be-" "I'd love to" "It's settled. Mom, have you met Paul? Paul, this is my mom, Amy Song."

* * *

Amy didn't seem able to look at Paul directly. Paul seemed to understand that Amaya was testing her mother somehow and him as well. He didn't know what to do.

"It's nice to meet you Mrs. Song. I hope we can get to know each other much better in the future." "I understand you think you're supposed to mate with my daughter. You do realize she's only fifteen?"

Ah, so that was the problem. Paul sputtered. Emily stifled a laugh and Amaya glared.

"Mom!" "Mrs. Song I assure you-" "I think that's enough for the moment. Everyone get inside before the food gets cold."


	13. Chapter 13

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

Through the eyes of another's pain

Will you see the cleansing rain

* * *

 _Amy didn't seem able to look at Paul directly. Paul seemed to understand that Amaya was testing her mother somehow and him as well. He didn't know what to do._

 _"It's nice to meet you Mrs. Song. I hope we can get to know each other much better in the future." "I understand you think you're supposed to mate with my daughter. You do realize she's only fifteen?"_

 _Ah, so that was the problem. Paul sputtered. Emily stifled a laugh and Amaya glared._

 _"Mom!" "Mrs. Song I assure you-" "I think that's enough for the moment. Everyone get inside before the food gets cold."_

* * *

Paul looked gratefully at his alpha and hurried to help Amaya into the house when she reached for him, pulling angrily away from her mother. Amy let Emily steer her into the house under Sam's supervision. Claire was minding her own business and making another plate of food for Paul.

Everyone sat down and picked up forks when Amaya stopped them.

"Sam, would you say the blessing to the ancestors please?" The others looked at her like she was crazy, some of them were slightly uncomfortable. Her mother was confused but shrugged her shoulders and continued to glare at Paul as she clasped her hands together and waited.

"I suppose so. Um, I ask a blessing on this meal and on this house and those within. Watch over us and guide us as we walk our path on this earth. Ancestors we give praise to you as we protect our people and we ask your wisdom as we build our strength. May the spirits be with you." "And with you."

Amaya gave the return blessing and the others followed a beat behind her.

* * *

I stopped and wondered where that had come from. It felt right but it was not something I had been taught. Emily smiled at me and my mother frowned at me. Sam looked thoughtful. That worried me. The smile on Paul's face would take getting used to.

* * *

We ate in silence for a minute.

Mom was still glaring daggers at Paul, who was sitting next to me. He was trying to be careful and not touch me, probably _because_ my mother was glaring. I was being contrary, also because my mother was glaring. I let my elbow graze his forearm at every opportunity. I bumped my knee against his and watched him jump. I leaned against him when I reached for something.

My mom got mad and Paul got tense. It was pretty funny.

* * *

"Amaya that isn't funny." "Come on mom, it was pretty funny." Paul was turning five shades of red as he tried to clean the potatoes off the table where they'd flown when I sagged against him and sighed. He'd jumped sky high as I'd done it. It was a little mean to him but still pretty funny.

"If you would just lay off it wouldn't be a problem." "If you would act your age it wouldn't be a problem." "I'm fifteen. I'm _supposed_ to be all over my boyfriend at the dinner table to gross out my mom." I met her glare for glare. Paul was trying desperately to find some ground to stand on. He didn't want to get on my bad side but he also knew he needed to make peace with my mom if he wanted to hang around. Sam and Emily and Claire were just enjoying the show.

"I think dinner is just about over. Why don't you go get ready for bed. Claire, could you help her please? Paul, I'll escort you out." "I'm not ready for bed. We're still talking. If you're tired _you_ can go to bed. I know what a stressful day you've had." "Oh no. At no point in time are the two of you going to be unsupervised. Do I make myself clear?"

* * *

Emily took that moment to shoo Claire and Sam away to the kitchen where they started clearing away the dishes so we could have our family dispute in semi-privacy. It didn't matter to me or my mom, we were going to have it out regardless. Paul was the only shy one.

* * *

That was the funny thing I was discovering about Paul. From what I'd heard he wasn't shy with anything. His temper was as short as anything and he flaunted his flirtations as publicly as he could. Obviously a part of that was to make sure the girls knew they were nothing more than what they were. There was nothing private, nothing more intimate than a show and tell for the boys, a fun time to be had.

So who would have thought that he would stutter and blush like this? It was cute.

But I was the only one allowed to make him do it.

"Mom, neither of us asked for this whole imprint thing to happen. He didn't do it on purpose and he hasn't made a move on me. When I told him to leave me alone he did. He has been nothing but a gentleman and he won't do anything that I don't want him to do. So chill out, please. You're embarrassing everyone who can possibly be embarrassed."

She glared at him some more, narrowing her eyes and taking a good look to see if she could spot a lie that had gotten past me.

"Surely Sam explained all of this to you." "He did." "And you don't have a problem with him being a giant wolf, just the imprinting?" "The wolf isn't trying to have sex with my fifteen-year-old daughter. The wolf is a protector." "So is Paul. They're the same. They're one and the same and they both love me for me, mom. And he imprinted on me almost two years ago! He's had loads of time to take my innocence and virtue."

She looked utterly appalled and Paul looked like he wanted to die. I took pity on them both and took a deep breath.

"You know what I forgot when I was gone this time?"

* * *

She blinked at the topic change, trying to figure out what I was getting at.

Usually the thing I forgot was easy to spot. It was big or important or I admitted it right away or by accident. This time I had kept it to myself. She was so curious but afraid to bring it up and hopeful that it wasn't anything.

* * *

"I forgot who I wanted to be. I knew who I _was_. I knew who my friends were. I knew you. But I didn't know where I was supposed to go from there. I lay there in that hospital bed and I had no idea what the next step was. I didn't know if I wanted to be a writer or a singer. I didn't know if I wanted to grow up and be a mom, like you. I didn't know if I had any future or if I _wanted_ one. It was all as blank as my past sometimes is. As scary as it is to wake up and not know the people who love you or what your own name is, let me tell you, it is _so_ much worse to wake up and not know if there's anything left for you to live for."

I had to look away. I couldn't stand the way her "warrior mom face" broke as I spoke. I could see that she knew exactly what I was talking about. She had woken to those moments herself. She had remembered her reasons.

"I didn't know if I would ever remember. Every day that you came back into my room at the hospital I told myself that you were the reason I kept looking and kept trying. But I worried that some day I would forget and that wouldn't be enough to keep me here. I was worried about you, mom."

I looked at Paul and saw him standing there, straight and tall and desperately trying to hold himself together as rage and grief and desperation tore through his mind and his body. I reached out to him and wove my fingers through his. His body stilled at my touch and I smiled.

"I remember now. I remember who I want to be. That's why Paul and I are supposed to be together. That's why the Spirits brought us together."

I kept looking at him, taking strength from him as I spoke, "I know you're uncomfortable with the age difference and his reputation but none of that matters now. You have to trust me to make my own choices. Don't try to cage me now, mom. It never works out and I need him to hang around long enough to at least figure out if I like him or not." we grinned at each other before I faced my mom again.

"No one seems to know what's wrong with me and I've never wanted to drag another person into that. The Spirits seem to have a different plan. They may even know what they're doing. Right now, this is the right choice for me."


	14. Chapter 14

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

Will you see the cleansing rain

Will you dance in the pouring pain

Will you sing in the mourning rain

Will you laugh as I give you pain

Will you die in the calming rain

* * *

 _"No one seems to know what's wrong with me and I've never wanted to drag another person into that. The Spirits seem to have a different plan. They may even know what they're doing. Right now, this is the right choice for me."_

* * *

Amy Song looked at her daughter and at the wolf-boy Paul Lahote, at their hands clasped tightly together, fingers woven as tightly as their destinies now were.

She had grown up with the histories of the tribes warning her of cold ones and monsters, telling her the Spirit Warriors would protect her and that the great spirits would forever be her guides.

She hadn't believed the stories, not really.

Not until her daughter was born.

* * *

When she'd held her newborn child in her arms, seen the ghost eyes that so frightened people, she had remembered her father telling her the history of her people.

She had remembered the stories of the great spirits and those who could walk among them, the spirit warriors, and those who had become the wolf warriors.

She had recalled the stories of the greatest of the spirit warriors, the guides and shamans of her people, marked with eyes like the spirits they spoke with, who would guide those spirits home to their bodies and their families.

She had named her child Amaya: Spirit Song.

* * *

When Amaya had first shown signs of losing her memory Amy had been so afraid that something terrible was wrong. She sought out every medical professional with an opinion to give. No one gave any satisfactory answer.

In desperation she had turned to home. Billy Black had met her and her husband and their little girl and interacted with her briefly. It didn't take him long.

 _"Amaya is touched by the Great Spirits. She is a great shaman, or will be when she is grown." "What are you talking about"_ even then Amaya's dad had not been interested in stories. _"She is not seated entirely in this world. She walks between, as our ancestors did. She hears the call of the spirits and she goes to them when her guard is down and the veil is weakest. When she is grown she will learn to control it."_ Amy had been terrified and desperate to protect her child. _"How do I protect her? How do we keep this from happening?" "You don't." "But she is untrained. She doesn't know how to come back. Every time she leaves this realm she leaves parts of herself behind. She can't control the voyage." "You have great faith, in the legends and in your history. Have faith in your daughter. She was chosen for a reason." "She's a child. She isn't ready for this." "She will be."_

* * *

Amy sighed, looking at her strong-willed daughter now.

She wasn't the little girl that needed protecting any more. She never really had been.

"You imprinted on her two years ago?" Paul looked sheepish as he replied, "When you first got here, actually. I think you'd been here about a week when we went to pick Claire up at school before a bonfire. I knew then and there what she was to me but I fought it. They convinced her to show up that night and hear the stories. She asked me to stay away so I did."

Amy wasn't sure she believed that and the blush on Paul's face gave away the lie.

"You did? I was led to believe that an imprinted wolf was rather more securely bound to the subject of his imprint. If that's not true then I don't see why you need to be here." "I..." "He watched me from a distance." "He can speak for himself, Amaya."

The teenage girl didn't like being told what to do but she realized this battle needed to be fought between Paul and her mother. He had to win the right to stay for himself.

"I just wanted to make sure she was safe. She likes to hike along the cliffs and run on the beach. She's sort of clumsy and doesn't pay much attention to her surroundings. I followed her as a wolf, at a distance, like she said. Just in case she needed help. She made it clear that she didn't want me around her and I didn't force my company on her. I won't lie, I don't have the best reputation as a suitor. But that all stopped when I met Amaya. I work and I protect the reservation and I keep an eye on her. That's all. I'm whatever _she_ wants me to be. No matter what anyone else says."

* * *

He looked almost sick as he spoke to Amy Song, not an overly-intimidating woman by herself, but absolutely ferocious when it came to protecting her daughter. Even against a 6'4" monstrosity like Paul.

But when he got to the end of his speech, Amaya's hand tightened around his and it gave him strength. His shoulder's and back straightened and he looked like he had found the ground he was to stand firm on. No matter what Amy said, he would do as his imprint wished. He would break any rule for her.

* * *

"Amaya, I am still your mother and I still want you to be responsible and considerate. I don't want you jumping into things and being reckless just because you _think_ you know where this is going. You take your time and take things slow. Do you understand me?" "Yes mom. I'm not in any hurry. I don't want to make a mistake here. I don't want to regret anything and I don't want to miss out anything either. When I make my choices it will be because they're _mine_ and for the right reasons, _my_ reasons. Don't worry." "It's my job to worry about you Baby."

Amy hugged her daughter, who let go of a reluctant Paul to return the embrace.

Claire poked her head out of the kitchen, "They're finished now we can stop hiding!" "Claire!" "What? I got bored. Am, you need to sit down now. Emily made cookies. I know you like cookies."


	15. Chapter 15

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

Will you lie in the calming rain

Will you dance in the stinging pain

of it all

* * *

 _But when he got to the end of his speech, Amaya's hand tightened around his and it gave him strength. His shoulder's and back straightened and he looked like he had found the ground he was to stand firm on. No matter what Amy said, he would do as his imprint wished. He would break any rule for her_.

* * *

The evening had worn Amaya out even though she flat refused to admit it.

Emily and Sam left with the promise that Emily would return bright and early to start physical therapy. Claire was staying over to assist with the daily activities of living while Amy went back to work.

Paul left too after a warning look from both Sam and Amy.

* * *

"I'll come back tomorrow, if you don't mind." "I'd like that. We still have some things to discuss." He looked at her consideringly for a moment, "Yeah, I think we do."

When he left it was with a fond and worried look and a self-conscious wave before he loped into the trees to phase into his wolf shape. Amaya watched from the living room window and sighed as he disappeared among the trees.

Claire was smiling when she turned back around.

"What?" Claire's grin didn't fade as her friend glared at her. "I can't believe it finally happened! You were being so stubborn I had finally given up all hope." "Oh whatever. I didn't know anything about it." "It doesn't matter. For most of us, we're just drawn together. We can't even help it. Even the imprints feel it, the need to be near them. When Quil's away I tend to mope." "You're not moping now." "I've been texting him all night and you are a pretty good distraction. The whole Pack's been buzzing about it. I've never heard of any imprint taking it so well. I know I didn't."

Amaya looked at her friend and saw the shudder pass through Claire's thin frame.

* * *

"I thought you knew all along. Didn't Quil imprint on you when you were little?" "Well, yeah, but he didn't _tell_ me. I grew up listening to the stories but they were, you know, _stories_. I didn't think he was going to turn into a giant wolf. Or that he was going to be my future husband. That still weird me out. Quil's my...I don't know. _Not_ my husband. He's my best friend."

"You like him." "I know I like him. I love him even. But he was the one who taught me how to swim and how to dance. He taught me to skip rocks and he kissed my skinned knees. He braided my hair and I remember painting his toenails. We played dress up and had tea parties. I told him about the first boy I liked. He's my _Quil_. And now all of a sudden I have these _other_ feelings for him. And he tells me it's because he imprinted on me when I was two years old and this was always meant to be and I never really had a choice and neither did he."

* * *

She was officially freaking out. How did we go from talking about my being a bad imprint to her freaking out? Shouldn't she be used to being an imprint by now?

But there was my little 110 pound friend with her glossy brown hair and her red cheeks, acting like she was about to having a panic attack at the thought of _liking_ the man she was supposed to eventually marry. Good gracious. What was I supposed to do?

* * *

"Um...Claire?" "Huh?" "I think it's okay. Really." "How can it be okay? He's changed my _diapers_! Diapers, Amaya! How can it be any worse?" "Um..."

Definitely freaking out.

"Claire, if that mattered to him I think he probably would have bailed before now. Don't you?" "He _can't_ bail. That's the curse of the imprint. He's stuck with me for the rest of his existence. It doesn't even matter if he _wants_ to be grossed out by me because the stupid ancestors won't let him make his own choices."

That struck me wrong. That's not the point of the imprint. She has it wrong. The imprint is supposed to be a gift for those who protect their people. They give so much of themselves and so much is uncertain in this life. They wanted to give a gift that could not be doubted or ignored or forgotten.

"I don't think you're right, Claire. Imprinting is something else. It's not about choices. It's about knowing your heart. Being sure of it and of yourself no matter what else life throws at you." "How can you say that? Paul never wanted an imprint. After what happened with his parents he swore he'd never settle down. After Sam and Leah he was even more determined. He denied you for two years! That's never even been heard of!"

Claire, that sweet and innocent girl who tried to make friends with everyone she met, clapped her hands over her mouth and let tears roll down her face as she realized what she'd said. Amaya stared stonily ahead.

"Amaya, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. He does love you. Just like Quil loves me." "Against his choice you mean?" "No-I-I don't know. I'm insecure and I don't know how I feel and I took it out on you. I am so sorry. I don't have a clue how Paul feels about you and I shouldn't have said anything."

* * *

Amaya couldn't help but wonder. How did Paul feel about her? He had said he would have chosen her even without the imprint. But how could he really know that? He wouldn't have looked twice at her without the imprint. He wouldn't even know her name if the ancestors hadn't forced him to pay attention.

Is that all they had done? Or had they taken away his choice?

Claire seemed to think so. Did Paul? Did she?

* * *

"When I told Paul I didn't want to see him, it was only partially because of the things I'd heard about him. And I had heard a lot of things. I didn't want to be a toy or a one-night stand. I've never had a boyfriend and I've never been with a guy before. I didn't want some playboy to think he could mess with me. But that wasn't all of it. I hit my head a lot and sometimes I don't remember things when I come back."

Claire was watching me with those intense brown eyes, the tears were slowly drying up.

"What kinds of things?" "Different things different times. Once I didn't remember our house or where we lived. Another time I forgot who my best friend was. The next time I knew who my friends were but not that we were ever friends. Sometimes I'd forget my mom or my dad. Sometimes I forget who I am and mom has to tell me my name and my favorite color and my favorite book and the bands I like to listen to. Sometimes my tastes change and they don't know if it's because I genuinely changed my mind or if I forgot and that piece of me never came back."

I sigh and twist a ring on my finger, a knot of remembrance made by our people.

"I've never had a boyfriend because I worry that one day I'll hit my head and I won't remember who he is and if I loved him. Every day I worry that I'm waking up and there's something I'm not remembering. There's some _one_ I'm not remembering. Someone who loves me. Someone I should love."

Claire hugged me tight. I don't know when she moved and I wasn't usually much of a hugger but I let her do it this time.

"I don't know if I'll remember Paul in the morning, or how much it will hurt him if I don't. But he might understand. Maybe. And I'm not so afraid when he's around. I'm not so worried about it. I feel...stronger and like some piece of me that I've been missing is coming back to me when he's here."

Claire was wiping her eyes as she smiled at me and I tried not to be embarrassed.

"Maybe he does feel like his options were taken away, maybe not. But for now, we have something between us that we can choose to explore. I'd like to see if it can at least get me back on track, maybe keep me from losing my mind for a little while. I believe the spirits know what they're doing, they guide us, if we let them."


	16. Chapter 16

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

Lying in the dark

Singing in the rain

Dying in the lonesome

Living with the pain

Stab me in the back

Lying to my face

* * *

 _"Maybe he does feel like his options were taken away, maybe not. But for now, we have something between us that we can choose to explore. I'd like to see if it can at least get me back on track, maybe keep me from losing my mind for a little while. I believe the spirits know what they're doing, they guide us, if we let them."_

* * *

"Do me a favor, don't tell everybody else. I don't want everyone looking at me like I'm broken. I've managed it this long with mom. I really don't need anyone else looking over my shoulder." "Once you tell Paul though, everyone will know. The wolves read each other's minds." "Oh crap. That sucks. Then you really can't tell." "What do you mean? You can't keep it from Paul." "I don't want him to be with me out of pity. Right now he knows I hit my head. That's all he needs to know. Promise."

She bit her lip, debating if my enmity was worth Paul's wrath later. Apparently she decided the imprints needed to stick together.

"Okay, if you promise to keep what I said about Quil between us then I promise not to tell either." "I'm a vault. That being said, you really shouldn't worry so much about Quil. He loves you and he's not in any rush. He wants whatever you want. He _wants_ you to be happy." "I'm _not_ happy. I'm confused."

She was about to start crying again. I didn't know how to handle that. I hit her with a pillow.

* * *

The look on her face made me laugh. Pure shock.

Then she grinned and suddenly a pillow was in my face.

Before I knew it we were in all-out war, laughing our butts off and gasping for air.

* * *

When we were too tired to move, my arms as heavy as lead balloons and my chest heaving with an attempt to get some air moving, we lay half on and half off of the couch, tangled together with our hair all over the place.

"You're pulling my hair." "Well, you're elbow is in my ribs." "My hair is more important." "No it isn't, Am." "Is too Claire."

"Well, now, isn't this a sight. What do you two think you're doing?"

My mom was standing at the bottom of the stairs with a grin on her face, watching us with obvious amusement.

"We were having a pillow fight Mrs. Song." Claire was quick to jump up at my mom's words, ripping my hair out at the roots as she did so.

"Ouch! Watch it!" "Are you okay?" "I'm fine, Claire. Give me a hand up. I'm beat."

Mom kept grinning as she watched me reach for Claire's hands like we were the best of friends. Most of the time I kept to myself and didn't let anyone touch me. I was so careful usually to keep from touching anyone. But now Claire knew, she was in the know. She could be trusted now, right? So it was okay if I leaned on her, just a little. Right?

Mom just kept smiling, that grin growing a little as she watched us together.

* * *

"It's time for bed. I have to work in the morning and your screeching is making it hard to sleep. Emily will be over early to start therapy. You'll want to be fully rested. Claire, I'm counting on you to make sure Amaya is taken care of while I'm gone. No more messing around." "Yes ma'am." "Alright Mom. Goodnight."

I watched her head to her own room at the top of the stairs and wished Claire and I were in my bedroom surrounded by the things that reminded me of who I am.

"Your mom is really cool. My mom would've been yelling if we'd woken her up on a work night." "She doesn't like to control me too much. It doesn't always end well." "What do you mean?"

The way Claire tilts her head to one side, like a confused puppy, when she doesn't understand something is ridiculously cute. I chuckled as I answered, "I don't like being told what to do."

* * *

I tried to leave it at that. I always do. It sounds petty, I know. I'm a child, basically, I _should_ listen to my mother and do as she says because she's trying to do what's best for me. But there are so many things that are out of my control, so much in life that I have no say in...

* * *

"That sounds bratty but I have a feeling it has something to do with you losing your memory."

The way she said it made the brat comment sting a little less. I grinned at her as I explained.

"I always feel so out of control because I can't remember. My whole existence is in my mother's and my doctors' hands. She can change my whole personality if she wants to. For whatever reason she's chosen not to. I'll never stop loving her for that. But I can't help but rebel because of it. She knows that's who I am. It's my way of being in control. I usually make the responsible choices so she usually lets me. But I can't stand being told what to do and I _will_ act out if you try to control me just for that reason. I can't seem to help myself." "And it doesn't make your mom mad?"

She looked astonished, like she couldn't even imagine a parent _not_ getting mad at a rebellious teenager.

"Nah, she gets me. She doesn't like when I run off so she stopped making rules I would break. She figured out that it was probably a bad idea to give an order she knew would be disobeyed in the first place. So long as she remembers that and I try to cut her some slack when she's had a rough time, we get on alright. Like I said, I don't do it to hurt myself, I just need to be free. My life feels like such a cage sometimes."

Claire looked thoughtful for a little while as I settled more comfortably on the couch, shoving my pillows into a nest in the corner where the two halves of the couch met.

"You have a lot of freedom compared to some people our age. But I see where you're coming from, I think. There's a lot you have to avoid, to keep yourself as safe as you can so that you don't forget. You don't need more rules tying you down. Still, you seem to be living a pretty full life here."

I thought about that as Claire got comfy beside me.

* * *

I'd spent my life trying to stay out of the hospital and always ending up back in those sterile white rooms with the beeping monitors and the doctors who didn't know what was wrong with me.

I'd broken up my parents' marriage.

I'd made good friends cry and only felt it at a distance because I didn't remember who they were.

But I got to go to bed when I wanted to and hang out with who I wanted to. I got to walk where I wanted and study what I wanted.

Too bad none of that makes me happy. Too bad I chose not to hang out with anyone because then I wouldn't make anyone cry but myself. Too bad I chose to go to bed early because then I got to stare at the ceiling and wonder what everyone else was doing on a Friday night, all the normal people. Too bad I got to go where I wanted and see all the people playing games and laughing and having fun while I walked the paths alone. Too bad I got to study what I wanted with no argument from my mother because in the end I'd probably forget that's what I wanted anyway.

* * *

By the time the tears started coming Claire was asleep and I was alone with my pain.

The rain came down and drowned out my misery.


	17. Chapter 17

**Everything you recognize belongs to the brilliant SM on temporary loan per prior imaginary agreement**

* * *

 _Too bad none of that makes me happy. Too bad I chose not to hang out with anyone because then I wouldn't make anyone cry but myself. Too bad I chose to go to bed early because then I got to stare at the ceiling and wonder what everyone else was doing on a Friday night, all the normal people. Too bad I got to go where I wanted and see all the people playing games and laughing and having fun while I walked the paths alone. Too bad I got to study what I wanted with no argument from my mother because in the end I'd probably forget that's what I wanted anyway._

 _By the time the tears started coming Claire was asleep and I was alone with my pain._

 _The rain came down and drowned out my misery._

* * *

Morning came early and bright for once, the sun shone through the curtains I'd left open and mom came tearing down the stairs in hysterics about being late for work on her first day back.

"Calm down mom, they'll understand. Just tell them I fell again and it'll be okay." "I'm not going to lie to my boss, young lady. You should be more responsible." "Says the woman who's going to be late on her first day back." I smirked as she gave me a death glare, hopping on one foot as she adjusted the strap of her shoe.

"Go get dressed and ready. Emily will be here in half an hour. You need to eat a healthy breakfast so you'll have plenty of energy for your physical therapy." "Yes I know, go on before you're even more late."

* * *

She kissed my forehead before she dashed out the door, calling an "I love you" over her shoulder before the door closed behind her.

Claire stretched sleepily beside me, pushing hair out of her face and covering a yawn as she rolled onto her back. "Good morning sleepy head." "Good morning Amaya. You're awfully cheerful. Does that mean you've had breakfast?" "Nah, I've always been a morning person."

She sat up quickly and looked at me like I was a complete stranger. I wondered if _she'd_ hit her head recently.

"What?" "You are _never_ cheerful and you are certainly _not_ a morning person. Where's my friend Amaya?"

I blushed as I considered her question.

"I guess I'd have to say that the person you knew doesn't exist. Not really." She looked at me all confused, with her head cocked to one side like a puppy. I sighed.

"I always push people away, remember? I _am_ cranky when I'm hungry but I play it up usually because then you had a reason to keep your distance. I didn't want you to get too close and be hurt if I forgot you." "Oh Amaya!" she hugged me with tears in her eyes. I patted her back awkwardly and wondered if this would happen all the time and if I would ever get used to such familiarity. I doubt it.

"Um...Claire?"

She let go of me and wiped at her face.

"Sorry, I get a little weepy with Quil gone. Like being hormonal on my own isn't bad enough, he has to be on patrol all week too. It makes for a very emotional me. But you poor thing, you've done everything on your own all this time. You don't show who you are to anyone, do you?"

* * *

I thought about it for a minute. Mom knew me better than I did. She had to because she reminded me who I was when I forgot.

Claire was the only one stubborn enough to be my friend when I so forcefully pushed everyone away. She didn't know me yet but I could see by the stubborn set of her chin that she was determined to find out.

* * *

"Well, that stops now. I don't care what you decide about the boys but you and I aren't going to have any secrets any more. Okay?"

She looked so hopeful and determined and...happy. How could I refuse? No one had seemed that eager to get to know me that I could remember.

"Sure sure. Whatever you say Claire." "I'm serious. I want to know all about you. The _real_ you. Let's start over." "If we start over we won't get anywhere. I don't show anyone anything, remember? You already know more about me than I usually do. Let's just take this slow, okay?"

I didn't really know how to talk about myself or show who I am. And she was so eager about the whole thing, like getting to know me was some grand experience. I could feel the blush spreading up my cheeks.

* * *

"I'm starving. Let's get breakfast."

She let me change the subject, jumping up from the couch and pulling me slowly to my feet.

I was moving more slowly than yesterday, like an aging grandmother whose joints pained her. I had little strength after my time in that useless hospital bed.

While my mind had been missing my body had been decaying, atrophying, dying. Two weeks didn't seem like a long time until you came back to survey the damage. I had once been curvy and soft. Now there was more bone than anything and almost no muscle mass.

Before I could have wiped the floor with anyone who stood in my way, or gone down trying. Now I had trouble making it across the living room floor to the kitchen.

Last night, with Paul here, it had seemed like nothing to stand and defy my mother. It had been nothing to stand, holding Paul's hand, and proclaim that we would see what fate had in store for us.

Today I hobbled and shuffled along, watching the floor lest I stumble, trailing my fingers along the wall to steady myself.

How far I have fallen.

* * *

When I finally made it to the dining room/kitchen I sank gratefully into the closest chair. Claire was at the stove with a frying pan in hand.

"Do you want some eggs or french toast or pancakes?"

"Who taught you to cook?" "Aunt Emily has been showing me some things since I came to live with her last year. She says I have potential in the kitchen."

She smiled brightly but I heard the hidden undercurrent of sadness. I remembered why she'd had to move in with her aunt and the pack alpha. That subject was too dark for breakfast and her smile said she didn't want to talk about it so I focused on my growling stomach instead.

"Pancakes are my favorite and I think we still have some blueberries in the fridge, with mint?" "You like _mint_ pancakes?" "I like mint _everything_."

* * *

Claire looked at me like I'd lost my mind but I just shrugged my shoulders and smiled. She shook her head at me and went to fetch the things she'd need from the fridge.

She maneuvered around our kitchen like she owned the place. Clearly she'd made herself at home while I'd been in the hospital. There was no need for me to point things out or tell her where things were. She knew right where to look for whatever she wanted.

I might have been unhappy that someone I had pushed away for so long was so comfortable in my home without invitation. But she was so...Claire. So calm and happy and she seemed to accept me. She genuinely seemed to want to be my friend.

She had been with the pack her whole life but she had barely hesitated before choosing to keep my secret, sticking by _my_ side, when I asked her to. She chose _me_.

It made me...happy...that she was so at ease her. It made a little of the tension ease out of my own shoulders as I watched her whisk everything together into a bowl and start flipping pancakes.

I didn't know if I would remember her the next time I forgot but I hoped so. I hoped the next time I woke up in that white room that she would be there waiting for me.

* * *

x

* * *

When the pancakes were finished she set a heaping stack of them in front of me. A small army could happily have dined on them and been satisfied.

"Are we feeding a platoon this morning?" she looked sheepish as she doctored her own much smaller stack with butter and syrup, "Sorry, I'm used to feeding the pack. Emily hasn't quite managed to teach me to cook for one or two people yet. The boys never leave leftovers." I giggled and started pouring honey on my own pancakes sans butter.

She looked at me with doubt on her face, "Are you sure that's how you eat pancakes?" "Positive. This is the only way to eat pancakes."

She had taken some convincing that honey-not syrup-was my preferred smothering agent for pancakes and that blueberries and mint was indeed the thing to stuff a pancake with. She had gone the more traditional route with syrup and blueberries but no mint. Such a sad mistake.

I took a bite and let the juicy blueberries explode and join with the crisp mint and sighed as my taste buds went to heavenly bliss. I did a happy dance as I attacked the rest of my food. The mountain of pancakes that had been before me were gone before I could really register that _I_ had been the one to eat them all.

* * *

Claire was staring at me as I licked honey off one of my fingers and sighed, patting my full and straining belly.

"That was the best breakfast ever. You are a wonderful best friend. I don't deserve you. Truly you are an inspiration to all best friends everywhere. They should all look up to you as the rest of us mortals gaze at the moon, contemplating our own existence."

I wax a little poetic when I'm satisfied. Before now, no one's heard it but my mom. I blushed but Claire was still staring at me all astonished and unbelieving.

She blinked at me, a deer caught in headlights. I blushed even more red. She blinked. I fiddled with my fork. She was still staring. I was a tomato.

"You just ate that whole stack of pancakes by yourself! Are you secretly a werewolf too?!"

I stared at her unblinking. Now I was the deer in the headlights. What the hell? Where did that come from?

"No." "Are you sure? Where did you even put all of that? I thought for sure you wouldn't eat it! That's disgusting! Mint doesn't even _go_ in pancakes!"

* * *

Her own breakfast lay forgotten as she stood up and began pacing the length of the kitchen and ranted.

Let me paint this picture for you.

Claire is tiny, like a little bird or a puppy. She's maybe 110 pounds and straight as a stick. Even the skankiest outfit would look sweet and innocent on her because she has nothing to show off. Her dark auburn hair is cute and curly and usually in a pony tail or braids to either side with cute little ribbons. She likes to steal Quil's sweatshirts and wear cut-off overalls splattered in paint or mud or grease or whatever mess her projects make.

Now she's in her cutesy little matching boy-short and tank top pajama set with puppies rolling around with her little clenched up fists making big gestures striding up and down my kitchen with her little bitty legs (she's only like 5' tall) with her brightly pink painted toes slapping my tiled kitchen floor punctuating her rant.

About me secretly being a wolf. Probably. Because where could I possibly be putting all that food when I'm skin and bones as it is. (She didn't seem to think it ironic that she had no figure to speak of herself.)

* * *

She was so busy ranting that we didn't notice when Emily knocked on the door or when she let herself in. So we were a bit surprised when Emily appeared in the door to the kitchen and put her hands on her hips to scold her niece.

"Elizabeth Claire, what do you think you're doing?"

Claire stopped in her tracks and blushed the deepest shade of red I'd ever seen on a native.


End file.
